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Chapter 36 - Part 2

"How did they find us?" Rafael asked, eyeing the map at the center of the table.

"The letter," I muttered, scrubbing my face. I hadn't known where we were headed when I'd sent it, so instead I'd simply told my family which direction we'd been travelling. It wouldn't have been hard for someone to retrace our steps with a few carefully placed bribes to the poverty-stricken commoners.

"But you didn't know where we were going." Beatriz shook her head. "I don't like this, Frederico."

"Neither do I," Frederico replied, his unwavering gaze still riveted to me. "Which is why I intend to give them what they want so they leave before they discover–"

"No," Beatriz and I said in unison, she in Ardal, me in Pretanian. I glanced at her, but she was staring at her brother, tension etched into every line of her body.

Finally, Frederico's attention turned away from me to settle on his sister. "It was only a matter of time, Beatriz. His father wants him home."

Beatriz sank back into her seat and stared down at her plate.

No. No. This couldn't be happening. Desperation thrummed through my veins. I'd told them in my letter that I was all right. I'd told them why I needed to stay. It was so typical of father not to believe me, not to trust me when I said I could handle this. Of course he'd swoop in to rescue me. He'd probably sent a unit of his most skilled, most dangerous men, as if I were some fool who'd stumbled into a lion's den without a sword or a hope of survival. I knew what I was doing here. I wasn't about to leave just because he didn't believe in me.

"Did my father send a letter, then?" I demanded, leaning across the table towards Frederico. "Because I'd like to inspect it, to be sure it's his hand with his seal."

The prince sipped his tea. "If the Pretanians bear a letter from your father, they wouldn't surrender it unless someone confirms that they are in contact with us. The villagers who know of this camp are all under strict orders not to share any information about my whereabouts and, by extension, yours. I don't want the foreigners sniffing around any longer, which is why I'm sending you to meet with them tomorrow."

Damn him. Damn him and his logic. As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. If father had sent the men I suspected he'd sent, they would not rest or return home until they found me. If they'd tracked us this far, they wouldn't stop until they rode through the pass and into the camp itself. If they arrived here, surely bearing some manipulative missive from my father demanding my safe return, Frederico would send me away. Especially if my return was the price my father demanded for an alliance with Pretania.

But if I met father's men without Frederico, I still stood a chance of talking my way out of this. Of sending them on their way and reworking whatever written promise of an alliance my father had offered.

"Fine," I said, careful to colour my every movement with dejection. Frederico couldn't suspect what I was planning if it was to work.

"Excellent," Frederico said. "Now let's eat before this all gets cold."

Beatriz remained sunken into her chair as the servants piled her plate with sausages, eggs, and fruit. But when they moved towards me, she glanced my way.

My appetite vanished at the look on her face. It was fleeting, but it struck me to my core. Hurt and disbelief and sadness, all pooled together into a crumpled look she shuttered as quickly as she'd allowed it to show through. She shoved her chair back from the table.

"Where are you going? You need to eat some–" Frederico began.

"I'm not hungry." She strode towards the door.

"Beatriz." Frederico's tone was firm.

She caught the frame, her knuckles white around it, and turned to face her brother.

He inspected her with concern. "I need you here."

Her throat bobbed. She lifted her chin. "I have business elsewhere."

I pushed my own chair out. "I have business elsewhere too."

Rafael seized my arm. Frederico nodded at his sister.

"You'll only make things worse," Rafael muttered as Beatriz disappeared out the door without so much as a look in my direction.

I wrenched free from him and hurried after Beatriz, only to come up short as Genevieve and her massive skirts blocked the doorway.

"What's all this?" she asked in Ardal, glancing back over her shoulder at the front door that slammed behind Beatriz. "Is something wrong with breakfast?"

"Breakfast was lovely, Genny, but I'm afraid I–"

Her touch on my arm was delicate, but firm. "I think you ought to sit down. There are things we must discuss now that there are foreigners sniffing around my borders."

I searched her face with rising frustration, but she made no move to vacate the doorway. I fired a helpless look after Beatriz. I needed to talk to her. I needed to explain myself. I needed her to know I wasn't giving up on her, I was simply trying to out-maneuver her brother.

"Please Thomas, sit." Frederico said in Pretanian. His voice did not reek of command as it usually did. Instead, it was polite.

I set my jaw and leaned hard into my manners to quell the frustration that threatened to boil over. I offered my elbow to Genevieve and escorted her to the seat across from Frederico, where I pulled out the chair and ensured she was installed comfortably before I resumed my own seat. The food cooling on my plate might as well have been ash.

"Can we trust these men your father has sent?" Genevieve asked, breaking off a piece of her bread.

"Trust them not to share your secret camp? Of course. My father would love nothing more than to keep his fingers out of a sticky foreign conflict. He wants me home so I can stop meddling in affairs that aren't my own and potentially embroiling his country in a foreign war." My voice was a bitter snap despite my best attempts to remain conversational.

"But if we send you back, he'll send reinforcements, si?" Rafael asked, leaning urgently towards me.

I cut him a look, then Frederico, who'd paused in slicing a sausage. "Well, I suppose we'll just have to find out now, won't we? Unless of course you'd prefer I stay as a voluntary hostage until he sends an army for you."

The table fell into an uncomfortable silence, but I felt no remorse for my sharp words. They were true. So long as I was here, I was their bargaining chip. But the moment they released me to my father's custody, everything hinged on his whims. His decidedly pro-Pretania whims. I would talk him around if I had to, but they didn't need to know that. I wanted them to worry, if only so their insides could roil as uncomfortably as mine as I eyed the door.

"Perhaps he should stay," Genevieve said quietly to Frederico. "Perhaps we send word to the Pretanians to find out what they want. If they're here to take him away, we bargain with them. If they're here to aid us, we know we can trust them to come to camp."

"If we send word to them, we confirm our proximity," Frederico said, though he'd set his utensils down to steeple his fingers and stare down at his plate.

"Oh yes of course, because sending me in the flesh wouldn't confirm our proximity at all." I didn't bother to shift into Ardal, so potent was my annoyance. "As it seems my opinion has no bearing here, I'll see myself out."

It was Genevieve's fist that hit the table, not Frederico's as I would have expected. "You will sit and you will help us." Her tone was cold fire, one my mother would have been proud of. "We don't know your father as well as you do. Frankly, Thomas, I trust you. That may be a mistake, but I will not watch my country burn under Dulciana's orders all because we made a foolish decision here that you could have helped us avoid."

Again, I couldn't fault her logic. But I couldn't sit still either. Not when every step Beatriz took away from me felt like I was losing all the ground I'd gained over the weeks we'd spent together.

"She'll come back. She always does," Genevieve added quietly, with a sympathetic, understanding tilt of her head. Frederico studiously inspected his plate with a clenched jaw, but remained silent.

I blew out my cheeks and leaned back in my chair. "Fine. If that's what you want, then let's plot our way out of this mess."

~*~

Genevieve and Frederico peppered me with questions, as well-balanced a pair or plotters as I'd ever met. Whatever he might have overlooked, she pointed out. Whenever her focus shifted to defending Vareinne rather than winning Ardalone's war, he reeled her back in. Rafael surveyed us all with a pensive frown and reminded us that his family's lands were at stake now too, especially if Dulciana discovered our camp and marched an army up from Relizia.

It was a mess, one that I would've found delightfully entertaining to sort out if my leg hadn't been jiggling as the only outlet for my growing frustration. For the sake of expedience, I'd shared every last one of my concerns where it came to my father's motives and possible courses of action. Genevieve's words had rung true – we all needed to trust each other if we were going to work this out. As much as I'd believed that tricking Frederico so I could maneuver the situation on my own was the right course, we all needed to be on the same page. If we weren't, we risked exactly what Genevieve hoped to avoid – a catastrophic misunderstanding. One that, given the circumstances, could cost lives, or even the war itself.

I'd absently shoved down some breakfast as we talked, but kept a careful eye on the clock in the corner. Beatriz' duel was at noon. I needed to talk to her before then, especially if my fate was on the line. She needed to know I hadn't given up, or else she might give up on me. And I didn't want to find out what being someone's "prize" meant, not unless the winner of that prize was Beatriz.

"So it's settled, then." Frederico said finally. "You will go tomorrow to find out what they want, but you will only leave with them if the terms are amenable to what we require. If they are not, your refusal will be our bargaining chip."

"Agreed." I tossed my napkin onto the table. "Now if we're all squared away, there's somewhere I need to be." I stood. "Can anyone tell me where Bazeran duels take place?"

Rafael choked on his sip of tea. Frederico lips parted with a groan as he leaned his head into his hand.

"What's she done now?" Frederico asked.

"Something about testing her skills upon her return. Stepping over blades and such."

Frederico sighed. Genevieve studied her tea and shook her head, a faintly amused smile tugging at her lips.

Rafael pushed back from the table. "Come on. I'll take you."

"You make sure they leave her in one piece, Rafa." Frederico said. "If she comes back as bruised and bloodied as last time, Bazeran tradition be damned, I'll punish them for it."

My stomach twisted. Bruised and bloodied? As if...as if she'd lost before? I swallowed. Beatriz and Nisha had appeared evenly matched when they'd sparred earlier. Hopefully whatever past duel Frederico referenced was one against some more imposing opponent. Not the one she faced today.

Rafael led me into the bright, cloud-speckled day. Around us, the town bustled about its business. Market stalls crowded the square. A blacksmith's hammer clanged in the distance. The stern, shouted commands of Vareinnian officers drilling their troops wafted past on the breeze that smelled of sun-baked grass and lavender.

"Have you ever watched a Bazeran duel before?" Rafael asked, as we made our way towards the colourful tents at the edge of Frederico's army.

"No." I tried not to let my trepidation show in my tone.

Rafael grunted a laugh. "Then you should know that you cannot step in, no matter what happens."

"You make it sound as if she could die," I said, feigning amusement to hide my concern.

"Depends on her opponent. Depends on the prize."

My heartbeat thundered in my ears, loud enough to drown out the sounds of the town around us. Suddenly all of Nisha's playful, flirtatious banter turned sinister. I'd thought she was simply teasing Beatriz, but maybe Beatriz' careful nonchalance and attempts to hide her blushes had been for another reason. Maybe it wasn't a friendly rivalry at all.

My stomach twisted. Was this how it felt, when two gallant fools duelled over a young lady? Was this dread, this feeling of being trapped inside a runaway carriage, the way it felt to see your future decided by someone else's fight?

Rafael's gaze slid to me. "I'm guessing Nisha was the one who issued the challenge?"

I nodded, unable to speak.

"And the prize?"

I looked at him, fairly certain I'd turned green.

At least Rafael had the decency not to laugh. Instead, he clapped me on the back. "Well, here's to hoping our girl wins."


**A/N: (Jul 28 2019) How's about that? Who loves a surprise update to brighten your Sunday?! I figured since the last chapter and this one were setting the stage for what's coming in the next few chapters, I might as well get them posted and out of the way so you can really savour the next ones. I can't wait to read your reactions for what's coming... *evil laugh*

I'm hoping to consistently update on Wednesdays for at least the next few weeks. I'll try to stick to that as my update schedule, as long as my work schedule permits.

With that said - what's your prediction about the big duel? Does Beatriz win? Does Nisha win? Does neither win? Does someone get hurt? 

As always, if you enjoyed it, please take a moment to vote and comment! :) **

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